Mark Johnston

Five Minutes is All You Get

Not long after we had our first child, I gave up golf. It was too expensive and time-consuming to justify during that season of my life. So I quit. But I always told myself I’d play again someday.

That day arrived recently. I saved up and found a set of golf clubs on sale. Then I hit the links.

I found out right away that I needed to reacquaint myself with the rules of golf. One rule has proved particularly relevant: the rule of the lost ball.

The guidelines of golf state that if a ball is lost a player has five minutes to look for it.

You can ask your partners for help.

You should leave no leaf unturned and no tall grass unsearched.

But you only get five minutes. After five minutes, the ball is officially gone forever.

This rule was written for people like me, who lose a lot of golf balls. It seems to me that it’s also not a bad directive for life.

I tend to miss-hit a lot of the opportunities that come my way – in my connection with God, my relationships, my finances, my leadership... When I do, it’s tempting to react in one of three ways – to:

• Move on too quickly without paying attention to the source of my mistakes
• Become paralyzed with regret, unable to enjoy the next shot I’m privileged to take
• Get caught up in endless analysis, spending way too long looking for what I’ve lost

Has something gone wrong for you lately? Have you hit a big decision or opportunity into the woods? Here’s what you need to do: take your full five minutes and look for it. If you find it in time to fix it, great. If not, move on.

You and I need adequate time to reflect and learn when something we do misses the mark. That’s our five minutes. But we also need a distinct moment of transition when we decide to let go of what’s lost.

Would I find more of the golf balls I miss-hit if I was able to search for an hour instead of five minutes? Maybe. But I’d also hold up everyone with me and everyone behind me. And I’d rarely finish a full round.

I’m not suggesting we discard our relationships, commitments, or values themselves after five minutes. Those are worth stopping everything to search for as long as necessary. I’m talking about our mistakes – lost tempers, unreached deadlines, slip-ups and miss-hits.

What I’m saying is this: in life, just as in golf, there are people playing with you. Don’t waste their time agonizing over your decisions. There are people coming behind you. Get out of their way so they can move forward. And there’s the rest of your course to complete. Don’t hold yourself back from your best by getting obsessed with your worst.

The next shot could change everything.

So take five minutes to look, reflect, regroup, and learn. And then move on.

The Love of God

The love of God is not a pond or a lake or a swimming pool. The love of God is an ocean.

We were meant to cannonball into it. Not to skim safely across the surface in our boats, protected from its power and coolness and depth; but to leap in recklessly and noisily, abandoning the security of our vessels.

As we jump into the love of God, we find it overwhelming. We can’t live underwater. Our lungs are incapable of breathing the fluid of God’s love. So we come bursting back above the waves, feeling the need for the familiar; for the oxygenated air we are accustomed to inhaling.

Enoch walked steadily with God. And then one day he was simply gone: God took him (Genesis 5:24 – MSG).

Enoch swam steadily with God. And then one day he simply stopped coming up for air. He drowned in the love of God.

At some point in Enoch’s life, his spiritual lungs became more adept at breathing the liquid love of God than they were at breathing this world’s air. He began staying down deep in God’s presence for longer and longer. He grew gills on the sides of his soul. Soon whenever Enoch would briefly emerge from God’s love, it was clear to everyone that he was increasingly becoming a fish out of water.

So God took him. Enoch stopped coming up for air.

Paul says, “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21 – NKJV).

Paul says, “I breathe this oxygenated air for the sake of Christ’s mission and calling. But to drown would be my gain.”

Every death of one of the beloved is not merely the triumph of a car accident or cancer or heart disease. It is a spiritual drowning. It is lungs transforming themselves finally into gills. It is someone’s soul deciding simply to stay under this time.

And they are now safe in the love of God forever.

The rest of us still require a bottom our feet can touch and a surface our heads can remain above. But a day is coming when we will dive down into cool bottomless depths, never to return to the top.

In the meantime let us practice our swimming, surrendering as entirely as we can to the love of God. Let us develop gills on our souls through communion with Christ. Let us prepare ourselves to one day drown in that which we are presently only dipping.

Let us live in the love of God as much as we possibly can, sneaking away to seek him as often as we can, serving the other swimmers around us as selflessly as we can, and inviting people who’ve lived all their lives on the shore to try the water as compellingly as we can.

For the love of God is an ocean.

May the Lord lead your hearts into a full understanding and expression of the love of God… (II Thessalonians 3:5 – NLT)

You Will Be Rewarded

In the midst of doing something good (and hard – aren’t they usually synonymous?) it can be easy to forget the reward that’s coming. When we’re dragging ourselves to the gym at 7:30 a.m., we can quickly lose sight of the reward of being physically fit. When we’re faced with the prospect of forgiving someone who has thoroughly ticked us off, it can be difficult to keep in mind the reward of personal peace. When we have to say “no” to a purchase that’s just outside our price range, focusing on the reward of financial health can be a daunting task indeed.

Why is it so tempting to diminish the reward? Because of the gap between the act and its repayment. Usually the larger the potential reward, the larger the gap.

A spiritual life comes with rewards as well. In fact, Jesus said that when we:

Love our enemies, we will be rewarded.

Secretly help those in need, we will be rewarded.

Are spoken disparagingly about for being his followers, we will be rewarded.

Pray behind closed doors and fast with a smile, we will be rewarded.

Welcome righteous people, we will be rewarded.

Invite the poor and those who cannot repay us to our parties, we will be rewarded.

Are faithful with a little, we will be rewarded.

Serve well while we wait for him to return, we will be rewarded.

And it doesn’t stop there. The New Testament of the Bible goes on to say that if we:

Do our daily work with enthusiasm, we will be rewarded.

Suffer for doing what is right, we will be rewarded.

Labor for God in a way that lasts, we will be rewarded.

Do not lose what we have worked so hard to achieve spiritually, we will be rewarded.

Remain confident in our trust in the Lord, we will be rewarded.

That’s a lot to consider. God hasn’t left anything to chance with his rewards program: there are countless ways he plans to compensate us for our walk with Christ. But in the middle of doing any of those things, we can all too easily fail to recall what God has promised. It’s the gap that hurts us – the gap between our present obedience and our future remuneration.

But that’s because God’s rewards are so significant! What he has coming your way needs time to store up and compound. So if it feels like there’s a large gap between your acts of faithfulness and God’s reimbursement, just remember – the longer the delay, the greater the prize.

Because one thing's for sure: you will be rewarded.

Can You Make Change?

Do you like change? Most of us don’t. And those of us who do usually only like the kind that swings things in our favor.

When it comes to leadership, we hear a lot about the importance of navigating change: changing times we live in; changing environments around us. But even more critical is the ability to make change – to not just respond to what’s already happening, but to proactively shape new ways of doing things.

There are three kinds of change leaders make. First is the kind that everyone immediately notices. These are clear, obvious shifts in strategy with instant effects. An organization might fire a senior executive – or add a new one. A church might do away with one of its main ministry programs – or change its name or remake its style. On a personal level, this is dying your hair or breaking up with your girlfriend or moving to Tuscaloosa. You get to find out if this kind of change will be well-received relatively quickly. The fruit may last for years to come, but the most drastic results occur right away.

Second is the kind of change that everyone gradually notices. These are more subtle or philosophical adjustments with slower results. A company tweaks its target audience. A church seeks to become more involved in the needs of its community. On a personal level, this is losing weight or seeing a counselor or spending more time with your family. It takes awhile for people around us to become aware; and because this kind of change requires much more self-control, it’s far more susceptible to being prematurely abandoned. But if a leader commits and slogs through, eventually everyone notices.

Third is the kind of change that no one may ever directly notice. These are the most difficult changes to make, requiring radical discipline. A team determines that it will be highly committed to its members, transcending the grind of getting things done and building quality relationships. A church says “no” to a talented leader so it can develop one less obviously gifted but more in tune with its culture and values. On a personal level, this is increasing your giving every year or going on an extended fast or forgiving someone you’ve resented for a long time. If people detect anything, they’re more likely to attribute it to a stroke of luck than to the change itself. Leaders make these
kinds of changes not because they will bring immediate or even gradual results but because they sense they’re deeply right.

You’ll need to make a least one of these kinds of change at any given time in your leadership – so which is it for you right now? Is there an immediate, obvious change you need to make? A subtler, less instant one? Or a change that no one may even be able to perceive… but you know it’s right?

Change. You don’t have to like it. But if you’re a leader, you do have to make it.

Braggart

You should brag more. Really, you should.

I know what you’re thinking: “Actually, I should probably brag less.  I’ve seen the awkward sideways glances when I start going off on my achievements at work, the horsepower of my car, or where we’re planning to spend vacation this year.  I’ve noticed how fewer and fewer people are ‘liking’ my Facebook statuses about how good my life is.”

Okay, so you should probably dial back on that bragging – about the things you own, the important people you know, and the stuff you’ve accomplished.

But you should boast a whole lot more about one thing in particular; or, more accurately, one person in particular.

Your God.

There’s something in us that wants to show off, to take pride.  It’s a component of our personalities that has been badly fractured by sin.  But at its core, in its pure state, it comes from God.  He designed us to sing praises and toot horns.

Just not our own.

So who’s then?  His.  You should brag more – about God and his grace and his goodness and how he’s forgiven you and helped you and been patient with you and provided for you and done miracles in your life and in the lives of people you know and care about.

I’m not talking about slapping a “Thank You Jesus” label on your own achievements, like a crooked Walmart sticker haphazardly affixed to a toddler’s sweater.  I’m not suggesting you subtly disguise a few gloats about your own feats by halfheartedly attributing them to God.  We all know (have been) people who’ve given God the “credit” as a back door to what we really wanted: recognition for ourselves.

I’m talking about actually pointing regularly to God and his glory.  Acknowledging him in all our ways.  Confessing frequently that he is the source and the substance of all we receive and do.  Highlighting his accomplishments and seeking to make his name known instead of our own.

I’m implying that, when pointed in the right direction, showing off can be healthy.  And that it taps into a part of our identity as one formed in the image of God that is truly good.

So go ahead: sing the praises of your God.  Toot his horn.

Therefore, as the Scriptures say, “If you want to boast, boast only about the LORD” (I Corinthians 1:31 – NLT).

It's a Big Week for 11 Year Olds

What was on your mind when you were 11?

How to get the raspberry jam off your homework?  What it would take for the cool kids to like you?  How to beat Mortal Kombat 3?

Making a financial commitment so your church could move to a new place, helping more people find Jesus and follow him fully?

If that last one seems out of place, I feel you.  But at least one 11 year old had exactly that on his mind this past weekend at The Journey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What happens to us when we grow up?  We get caught up in bills we have to pay, stuff we want to achieve, and progress we want to make.  We get sucked into a vortex of self-preservation.

And in the process we lose the wonder of generosity and that childlike, radical confidence in God to bless us when we look beyond our own needs and give.

We need half a million dollars in hand to move to the building on Route 4 and reach more people.  It won’t happen any other way except through giving – with the same childlike trust of the 11 year old who made this commitment.

Someone joked recently about how nice it would be for The Journey to receive a single, extravagant gift so we could just make this happen.  I really have no interest in that.  I don’t want the kingdom to move forward based upon the sacrifice of a single generous person.

I want it to move forward through a whole lot of people like you and me.  Because if we move to a new place and you and I weren’t a part of it through giving, we’ll miss the incredible blessing of seeing God respond to our faith.

The building isn’t the prize.  You and I giving radically to accomplish something big for God is the prize.

Are you in?  If so, click HERE to give right now toward Advance.

Or make a financial commitment this Sunday.  Ask God for direction about what you can afford… what you can sacrifice beyond what you can afford… and what you can believe God to accomplish through you.

It’s our “big week.”  This is it… what happens this week determines whether we move forward or hold back.  As our friend Pastor Matt Keller told us Sunday, it’s “go big or go home.”

At least one 11 year old has chosen to go big.

“I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children” (Luke 10:21 – ESV).

Fall off the Ball

A month ago, my doctor gave me a wake-up call.  Apparently, I haven’t escaped the family predisposition toward high cholesterol.  Really high cholesterol.  So he sent me off with a prescription and stern instructions that changes would have to be made.

I haven’t had a dessert, croissant, or white bread since then. (Given my previous carb addiction, this is tantamount to saying I haven’t had a meal.)  And I’m frequenting the gym as well.

Last week I was perched precariously on an exercise ball there doing crunches when I became aware of something.  Bending up into the crunch went fine, but on my way back down each time I had this fleeting second of paranoia.  A little voice in my head whispering the same thing over and over:

“Don’t fall off the ball.”

Have you heard that little voice?

There are, after all, people around.  They’re in better shape than you.  The best thing you can do is stay thoroughly inconspicuous.  That means not falling off the ball.

(The problem is I’ll never get Vin Diesel’s abs that way.  Cautiousness doesn’t translate into an effective workout.)

Then it struck me, sitting there: maybe the best thing that could happen for many of us is to fall off the ball.  We used to fall off the ball all the time, remember?  It was called “childhood.”  We took risks.  We were more in touch with our faith than our fear.  Yes, we walked away with some scraped knees – maybe even a broken bone or two.  But would you trade it?  When we tell stories about being kids, it’s falling off the ball/bike/table/roof that’s most riveting.  Curiously absent are the tales of times we shrank back, listened to our fears, and failed to risk big.

If what you’re going to do today is the right thing, maybe you should do it so hard, so fearlessly, so all in that you risk falling off the ball.  Maybe you’ll never get where you want to go practicing caution instead of courage.  Maybe it’s been so long since you “failed” that you’ve grossly exaggerated what falling off the ball will cost – and entirely underemphasized the price you’re paying to avoid it.

Maybe you should knock on your boss’ door today and say, “I know it’s a difficult economy, but I think I have more to offer.  How can I take the next step?”

Maybe you should read the Bible to your kids tonight even if you’re terribly insecure about your own understanding of it.

Maybe you should hire that person you can’t stop picturing on your team.  Or fire the one dragging everyone else down.

Maybe you should take your wife to dinner and tell her you’re sorry you’ve been a jerk lately and you’re going to do better.

What’s the worst that could happen?  You could fall off the ball.  Which will mean… you’ll just have to get back on.

The downsides aren’t as bad as you think.  Take the risk.  Vin Diesel’s abs await.

Oh Yeah, I Know Him

My planning retreat ends today.  Each year, I spend a few days away alone recalibrating and planning for the year to come.  One of the things I work on is my life mission, which starts with knowing God.

What does that mean, exactly – to know God? 

I used to think it meant living a moral life.  In the Bible, our connection to God is repeatedly described as a marriage.  If we think in these terms, living a moral life is like a wedding ring.  It’s a symbol of our devotion; a tangible reminder of who (and whose) we are.  It’s a visible deterrent to would-be lovers who might otherwise seek our attention.  It testifies to our commitment.

But living a moral life isn’t the extent of knowing God any more than wearing a wedding ring is the extent of being married.  It’s a sign, but not the substance.

At times I’ve assumed that knowing God meant feeling spiritual.  Spiritual feelings are like the best moments of a marriage: flashes of physical intimacy and romantic euphoria.  They’re powerful installments of togetherness.

But anyone who’s been married any length of time knows these moments are more exception than rule.  In the same way, spiritual feelings aren’t the same as knowing God.  They’re a spark, but not the substance.

Finally, for a while I imagined knowing God meant accumulating knowledge.  Certainly the more I’ve learned about the person I’m married to, the closer we’ve become.  More of her life data is always emerging, like puzzle pieces that when placed together reveal her character more clearly.

But there’s a difference between knowing a great deal about someone and knowing them.  Accumulating knowledge isn’t the same as knowing God.  It’s a step, but not the substance.

Knowing God includes all of these things but is limited to none of them.  It isn’t anything that can be captured in a single term or phrase.  It’s a blend of purity and passion, a headlong rush into moments of mystery and a deep contentment with stretches of monotony. 

Like marriage, knowing God is learning more every day while being at peace with what one still does not know.  It’s sacrificing and experiencing and growing; it’s failing and rebelling and forgetting.  It’s all of this in the safety of a relationship you both know will still be intact tomorrow, whatever comes.

Do you know God?  Or have you settled for living a moral life?

Do you know God?  Or are you just caught up with spiritual feelings?

Do you know God?  Or are you satisfied with merely accumulating knowledge?

There’s no simple step of practical application.  I just want to stir you to settle for nothing less than really knowing him.

By his divine power, God has given us everything we need for living a godly life. We have received all of this by coming to know him… (II Peter 1:3 – NLT).

Please Pray for Me

Have you thought about how much you know about other people’s lives lately?  It’s a side effect of the explosion of social media.  Sally’s kid is having his tonsils removed.  Henry’s company laid him off.  Francesca has had a terrible week at work.  (I’ve always wanted to use the name “Francesca” in an illustration.)

The crazy thing is you found this all out during 60 seconds of scrolling Facebook or the look you snuck at Twitter during a boring meeting.  It can be a bit overwhelming.  And what can be even more overwhelming is that some of these updates are cries for help – more than just random information, but petitions for your sympathy and prayer.

What’s a follower of Jesus supposed to do?  Since the scriptures call us pointedly to pray for each other, simply ignoring all the needs that flash across our screens and hearts is not an option.  So how should we respond?  Here are some of my thoughts:

1. Don’t pray for everyone.  You’re not responsible to take on every need, because you’re not the Messiah.  Trying to pray for everyone is like trying to be best friends with everyone: it gets superficial in a hurry.

 

1. Pray for someone.  The reverse is true as well.  In fact, not praying long, drawn-out prayers for everyone’s needs should free us up to pray for someone’s needs.  Choose a few and focus in with laser-beam precision.  Make those prayers count.  Ask for specific direction and results.  And offer yourself to God to help in any other way you can.

 

1. Pray for someone you like.  If you’re struggling to decide who to pray for, gravitate toward someone you naturally care about.  Life moves at the speed of relationship, and prayer is best when it’s combined with a connection we already have with another person.  Don’t be afraid to prioritize and pray for your friends.

 

1. Pray for someone you don’t like.  Praying for people we already value and appreciate strengthens our connection with them.  Praying for people we don’t particularly value or appreciate develops our character.  It isn’t just people’s needs that litter Facebook and Twitter: there’s plenty of bragging there as well.  And some of it is probably coming from someone you can’t stand, are jealous of, or are tired of hearing about.  You’ll be startled by what God does in you when you pray for them.

The next time you’re checking in on social media remember that knowing some small thing about someone’s life may be all the empowerment you need to pray for them.  You don’t have to pray for everyone, but each of us should make praying for someone part of our spiritual development.  Start with someone you like; graduate to someone you don’t.  And you’ll grow.

With Great Power...

Spiderman 3 was on TV this past Sunday afternoon.  I surfed my way across it just before the first villain, the Sandman, started wreaking havoc downtown.

Poor Spidey (and not just because the third installment of his movie was so terrible).  He had such humble beginnings, and he always seems to have to be reminded of that.  It’s a familiar comic book story – ordinary kid has extraordinary experience and becomes a superhero…

And then lets it go to his head.

That’s always the real plot, regardless of which sequel we watch.  It doesn’t matter how scary the bad guys are, the true threat to our red-suited hero is inevitably himself.  He gets caught up in the fever of his own success.  The cheers of the crowd and the accolades of a few flatterers disrupt his equilibrium.  He starts thinking less about fighting crime and defending the innocent and more about achieving superiority and preserving his image.

We see it the first time he snaps at someone close to him.  That’s when we know that eventually Peter Parker is going to have to face a painful reminder:

With great power comes great responsibility.

Do you have great power?  Are you a supervisor, a manager, a pastor, a leader?  Are you a husband or wife or parent who calls the shots?  Are you an ordinary person who’s been extraordinarily gifted and now has unordinary influence?

With great power comes great responsibility.

Here’s how you can tell that you’ve start to let authority go to your head: by the way you treat those who are close to you.  When you overpower or insult the staff person, church member, or volunteer who “reports to you” because you’ve known them long enough that you think you can get away with it; when you’re impatient or irate toward the spouse or child who looks to you for leadership because no one who “matters” is watching. 

When the minor inconsistencies of the people who love you become major inconveniences to you accomplishing your agenda, you know you’ve let it go to your head.

It’s a clear symptom that you’ve bought into your own hype and you’re losing your moral center.  It reveals the darkness inside of you.  And chances are good that you won’t even notice it the first time it happens.  But chances are also good that someone will try to tell you.  In fact, pray that someone has the guts to get real with you about how you’re acting. 

Just like for the darker Peter Parker, when his girlfriend is lying on a restaurant floor after he’s slapped her in a fit of rage, someone will try to ask you for the truth: “what’s happening to you?”

You’d better pay attention.  Because with great power comes great responsibility.  And when great power is abused, it’s only a matter of time before great power is removed.

Think about it, Spiderman.